


Mala Suledin Nadas

by Juliana98



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Elves, F/M, Inquisition Agents (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-08 00:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10373988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliana98/pseuds/Juliana98
Summary: Anaire Lavellan was never taught how to speak common tongue before she was named Herald of Andraste. With the help of her inner circle and a very determined commander, the Dalish Herald attempts to learn.





	1. Lost in Translation

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, thanks for reading! I’ve been toying with the idea of having a Dalish inquisitor who struggles to speak English because I feel like there should have been some Dalish clans who never learned the common language.  
> Since there isn’t enough of the Dragon Age elvish that is translated on the internet, I also integrated some Lord of the Rings elvish!  
> I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with some drawings!

Anaire Lavellan was never instructed on how to speak to the common language that the rest of Thedas was well acquainted with. Many of the other Dalish clans had been forced to learn it so that they could trade with the human colonies, but the Lavellan clan had decided to maintain the old elvish ways. Common tongue was not taught to them.

The elf had picked up very little of the language through her years of spying on the human groups who camped near her clan. She could identify small phrases and simple greetings, but Anaire could not recite it.

This was a serious issue when she found herself captive of a group of humans who seemed to be under the impression that Anaire was a murderer.

With the help of an older, bald elf whose name was Solas, Anaire was able to translate her innocence to the leaders of the human clan. Her shackles were released and she was allowed to perform magic on the battlefield to protect her life. Anaire traveled across the valley, closed the demonic rifts with her newfound mark, and slashed a pride demon to its knees in order to temporarily shut the breach in the sky. She had made herself useful; but she could not communicate with her teammates.

She became quick friends with Solas, as she relied on him heavily to speak among her peers. Unfortunately, in the war room where she had been summoned, she could not bring him.

“Andaran Atish’an,” the Antivan ambassador spoke in greeting to Anaire, once realizing that she was struggling to understand what Cassandra was saying.

Anaire’s bright green eyes lit up like the sun when Josephine greeted her. A human who could speak elvish?

“Ma serannas, falon! Cin ped elvhen?” Anaire asked excitedly. She was met with blank stares from the other advisors. Josephine gave Anaire a sad smile in response, for she could not understand Anaire either.  
-Thank you friend! You speak elvish?-

“That is the only Elvish I know, I’m afraid,” Josephine apologized while the excitement fled from Anaire’s eyes, face falling in disappointment at the common tongue. The shemlen could not communicate with her.

Cassandra frowned at the exchange, obviously let down that their herald couldn’t understand. “What should we do with the Herald?” She looked towards the advisors.

Leliana was the first to respond. “She seems to have understood our introductions, but beyond that she knows nothing. Perhaps it would not be harmful to have Solas in our meetings with us?”

“I don’t completely trust him,” The commander interjected, eying Anaire closely, “he has given himself to our cause but it isn’t certain what he wants to do with the information.”

“I agree. He came out of thin air after the breach appeared,” Cassandra decided.

Josephine did not appear to be thrilled with the assumptions. “He attended the Conclave with the other apostates, it is clear why he was there. I believe it would be beneficial for him to be at her side. We simply cannot order the Herald around Thedas without her knowing why.”

Anaire stared around the room, eyes quickly moving from one human to the next. She was picking out individual words. “Herald”, she learned, was her title. “I” and “she” were words she comprehended as referring to the speaker and someone of the female gender. Clearly, they were talking about her. Unfortunately, it was too quick for her to even hope to follow.

“You are correct, she does need to know where she is going but I still don’t trust Solas,” Cullen grumbled. His golden eyes locked briefly with Anaire’s before he continued to stare down the seeker. “Why don’t we have someone teach her our language?”

“Oh? And who would be the one to spend all of that time teaching? We are all busy people, Commander,” Leliana jested, a smirk forming at the edge of her lips.

That was when Anaire pipped up. “I learn,” she said slowly.

All eyes in the room turned to her in an instant. Anaire’s pale skin flushed visibly. She hoped that she had heard them correctly and said the right thing in response.

“You will learn?” Josephine responded at a similar pace.

The Dalish elf nodded readily, long white locks bouncing in accordance with her head.

“I learn. I am quick,” she reassured. Her Dalish accent was thick in her words, making them hard to decipher. Fortunately, the others seemed to capture her message. She would learn common tongue so that she could be in the war room without Solas. Anaire wanted to make friends in her new home. If she was going to have to save the world, she wanted to at least be comfortable with the people around her.

“Very well, Herald,” Cassandra finally said, “we can have Solas teach her in his spare time.”

Leliana was not convinced. “Solas may be able to speak with her, but he is often preoccupied. I am unsure if he will be able to teach her in a timely manner.”

“It is the best option we have,” Cullen finalized. He really did not want to have Solas in the war room with them and this was the best way to ensure that it did not happen.

“It could take months,” Josephine offered the Commander, hoping that he would see both sides of the argument.

“She will take lessons with him when they are out in the field together and when he has spare time in Haven. Other than that, it is likely she will pick up the language after living in Haven for some time. If she is a quick learner as she says, it will be no problem,” Cullen pointed out eagerly, hand gripping the pommel of his sword as he spoke.

The advisors came to a decision that Solas would teach Anaire the common tongue and that collectively, Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen would make an effort to speak to her slowly in the meantime.

Anaire seemed pleased with the outcome of the meeting.

She would learn.

 


	2. Falon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anaire wanders out to the training grounds to relax but finds herself occupied with the inquisition warriors.

Haven was beautiful. 

The way the light struck the snow that crossed the mountains for miles, lighting up the pure white in a sparkling display all the way to the horizon; the way the horses in the stable delicately puttered about in their pens, and the way the sun beat down to warm chilled skin; Anaire thought Haven was beautiful. 

She had been living in the village for a week and had already found herself learning more of the human words. Anaire had made a few friends. A dwarf named Varric had been kind enough to attempt to speak with her, and while Anaire could only smile at him in response, she greatly appreciated the company. Cassandra was also making an effort to bond with the elf but she quickly felt that the effort was futile. Anaire was friendly, that was for certain, but she could only say so much. 

Anaire thought that Haven was beautiful, despite feeling slightly homesick and vaguely lonely.

Solas, true to his orders, had been diligent in his lessons. In the most recent lesson he had given Anaire pointers about the words that the shemlen might try to say to her. Sayings like “help me” or “You must go here” were the most recent additions to Anaire’s vocabulary. 

The Dalish elf was determined to remember these phrases. After a particularly rigorous language lesson that afternoon, she found herself exhausted. Anaire figured that she would take a break before practicing her new words again. She sat out by the training grounds, watching the young men and women attempt to battle each other with wooden training swords. A few of them had perfect form. They would parry and block with grace and ease while their opponent would do the same. 

Others struggled much more. There was one recruit in particular who did not seem to understand the concept of a shield. 

Anaire watched with interest as the new recruit left his shield hanging at his side while he focused all of his attention on his sword arm. As a mage, Lavellan never had an item to block with but she had seen enough of the warriors in the clan fight that she knew the proper form. She could easily tell that this new fighter was going to get injured by treating his weapons in such a way. 

The blonde haired commander that Anaire had met a week ago in the war room was also present, and seemed to be reprimanding the recruit. 

Lavellan smiled at his stern tone of voice, observing how he interacted with his soldiers and how they responded to him. At first, the soldier lifted his shield in accordance to the Commanders wishes but as time went on he continued to forget about the blocking item that hung from his left forearm. 

Chuckling, Anaire stood from her rocky perch just beside the training grounds and leapt down into the snow beneath her. She crossed the landscape and appeared at the new soldier’s side, surprising him as the Herald of Andraste showed particular interest in the training of a simple recruit. 

“What is your name?” She asked him slowly, careful to accentuate syllables that would try to mask her Dalish accent. 

The soldier fidgeted with his weaponry before he stood up straight at attention, arm crossed firmly over his chest. “Jim, my lady,” he announced proudly, staring just above her shimmering green eyes and over her hairline. Although proud of his name, he was certainly nervous about being addressed by the Herald herself. 

Anaire laughed brightly, “Jim,” she repeated, “watch.” The mage grasped the edge of his shield and raised it up so the top edge hovered just below his nose. She regarded him momentarily before pulling his left elbow out to the side and nudging her foot between his to encourage him to widen his stance. 

The recruit looked uncomfortable that the Herald of Andraste was touching him but he made no move to disappoint her. He readily complied to her gentle requests, eyes never once meeting hers. Instead, he stared forward at Commander Cullen who had ceased conversation with his second-in-command and was closely watching Anaire’s movements. 

“Good,” Anaire nodded once she had completed her critiques of his body structure and stepped back. She motioned for Jim and his partner to continue their practice fight. 

Jim’s brown haired companion smirked at him before preparing his own stance and lunging at Jim. The recruit, now with a proper form, pushed his partner’s sword to the side and brought his own practice sword down beside his neck. With a whoop, Jim bounced on his feet. That had been the first successful block her had performed all day. 

Anaire grinned from ear to ear and stepped back into the center aisle between the training recruits. She felt as though she had accomplished something through Jim’s success. 

Cullen also thought she had done something magnificent. He stepped up beside her and cleared his throat to announce his presence at her side. 

“You did well,” he offered, “I have been trying to get him to block correctly all day.” 

The Dalish Elf met his proud gaze with her own sheepish smile. She still could not understand most of his statement but she felt as though he was pleased by his lightened expression which was usually sullen. 

Cullen quickly realized his mistake. His honey eyes widened considerably and his gloved hand flew up to the back of his neck, rubbing uncomfortably. 

“But-you don’t know that. Ah, Andraste preserve me, let me try again,” Cullen took a deep breath, “Well done?” he said slowly, eying her closely. 

Anaire chuckled at the shemlen, “Ma serranas, Commander.” His blank look made her double back on her words. She quickly ran through the list of common words in her head and translated herself, “thank you.” 

“You are quite welcome,” he offered, eying the Herald closely. Cullen found that he thought her accent was quite cute. The vowels she attempted to accentuate were coming off slanted yet sweet, closely connecting to the letters beside it. Her consonants were gentle, nowhere near as rough as his Ferelden accent. The commander was oddly intrigued by her. 

After a brief moment of silence with the two of them closely watching the recruits and Anaire keeping a close eye on Jim, Cullen turned to her again. “How are you liking Haven?” 

Anaire turned from Jim to lock eyes with the commander who had addressed her. Her white, almost translucent, locks turned with her body, plowing down her shoulders and over her back. Cullen’s eyes quickly darted to stare as the tightly wound braids that sat on the surface on either side of her head now twirled between her nimble fingers in her discomfort. 

“I do not understand,” Lavellan admitted softly. She heard “Haven” and “You” but he spoke so quickly she was unsure if she was correct. 

The commander continued to rub at the base of his neck and asked slowly, “Haven?” she nodded. “Do you…like it?” She stared at him apologetically. “… Is Haven good?” 

Anaire’s eyes lit up brighter than the breach itself, “Emma isala… Yes, Haven is good,” she corrected herself before she slurred out elvish to the man who could no more understand her language than he could perform magic. 

Cullen smiled at her enthusiasm before turning away. He motioned that he needed to resume his duties and the Elf smiled back in understanding. At her grin, the commander felt his stomach flip. 

Then he inwardly groaned. 

That dammed elf was cute.


	3. Elvarel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anaire had thought she made progress in her speech, however one meeting of the war council proves her wrong. Cullen offers to help her work through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

“Herald!” 

Three quick raps on the door sounded through the little cabin. 

“Herald, open the door.” 

The raps turned into fists heavily beating against the old wooden door. The echo loudly resonated within the walls. 

Anaire stirred just barely. Her delicately slanted eyes fluttered open in response to the knocking, pointed ears twitching as the sounds rang through them. The elf refused to open the door as the sunlight just barely peeked through her window and they had arrived back from the Hinterlands not yet eight hours ago. 

They had spent a little over three weeks scouring the war torn area; fighting off rebel mages and unruly Templars in the field, closing stray rifts in the mountains, and helping struggling refugees just beyond the crossroads. Along with Cassandra, Solas, and Varric, Anaire had successfully recruited a woman named Mother Giselle to assist the Inquisition in Haven and convinced a cult that once worshipped the breach to follow her in closing the heavens. Then, when the group had spare time, Anaire was given language lessons to improve her speech. With Solas’s leadership and assistance from her companions, the elf was better grasping common tongue however it took much time and concentration. 

Yes, Anaire was tired. All that the mage wanted was to have a decent sleep, but it seemed that Haven had other ideas. 

More specifically, Cassandra Pentaghast had other ideas. 

“Anaire Lavellan,” the seekers voice boomed past the door for the third time, forcing Anaire up from her warm slumber and up into the chill of the early morning winter air. The elf quickly threw the blankets back onto the bed and tossed her snowy hair aside from her face. With a huff, the Herald of Andraste crossed the cold room and threw the door open, muttering elven curses under her breath. 

“Ar tu na’lin emma mi, asha,” she grumbled upon seeing Cassandras stern face in the doorway. “What?” 

“Your presence is requested at the war table,” Cassandra announced, equally as displeased as Anaire was. Though, it was definitely possible that she did not appreciate the angry elven statements. 

Anaire felt similarly. She did not appreciate the common tongue statement so quickly and so early in the morning. 

“I go to war table?” She asked grouchily, tacking a statement onto the two words she captured from Cassandras brisk sentence. 

“Yes. They ask you come quickly.” With that, the seeker disappeared, leaving Anaire to herself. 

“Ma halam,” Anaire huffed before shutting the door tightly behind her. 

With a fluid movement, the elf pulled the thin undershirt off of her body and tossed it over the bed in the corner until it would be worn again the next night. Her sleeping trunks received the same fate, now fully revealing the stark white Vallaslin that stretched like vines across her sun kissed limbs. 

The symbols to mythal were then covered once more as Anaire donned the light armor that was gifted to her by the inquisition. Her delicate fingers quickly wove one thin braid across one side of her head which dropped to her mid-back, then created a similar one on the opposite side, leaving most of her hair hanging freely. For the final touch to protect her from the frigid wind of the Frostbacks, Anaire wrapped a thick red scarf around her neck before bolting out the door. 

She scurried up the steps to the chantry, down the stone hallway, and quietly entered the war room. 

Inside, her advisors were already waiting. Josephine assumed her usual spot on the right, Leliana on the left, with Cullen positioned proudly in the middle. They had been deep in conversation until Lavellan opened the door. Their heads rose quickly from the map to greet her.

“Welcome back, Herald. We have much to discuss about your time in the Hinterlands,” Josephine opened, tilting her head towards Anaire. 

Anaire stared back at Josephine with a delicate smile before Cullen let out a deep chuckle, “She means hello, talk about the mission,” he said much slower than the advisor had cared to speak. 

The elf nodded to the commander before turning to Josephine, “Thank you,” she stated. Then she froze. Anaire couldn’t conjure the common words to describe their accomplishments in the Hinterlands. In fact, under the pressuring eyes of the three advisors and Cassandra, the Dalish elf could hardly come up with any of the phrases she had recently learned. 

She locked eyes with Cassandra beside her, desperately hoping that the warrior would pick up on her discomfort. Cassandra seemed peeved at Anaire’s tied tongue, but ultimately she sighed and addressed the war room council. 

The warrior announced their successes and newfound allies. Fighters who hailed from regions across Ferelden that had then resided in the Hinterlands were now joined with the Inquisition. The fighting that had taken place in the crossroads had been dealt with, leaving open paths for refugees to travel. Cullen’s soldiers had been useful in creating watch towers for Master Dennet as well as leading him and his horses through to Haven. Josephine’s influence traveled through the nobles of both Orlais and Ferelden, spreading news of the Inquisitions successes in the Hinterlands. Leliana’s spies had gathered accurate information about rifts that had scattered across the pass which then allowed for the Herald to close them in a timely manner. 

At the end of Cassandra’s report, they all converged to tally numbers of the injured and deceased in the field. Luckily, that number was slim for the three weeks they had spent away. Once that was complete, the council decided that Anaire and her team were to approach the chantry in Val Royeaux. She needed to appear human to the religious leaders as well as the nobles who lived in the bustling city. If the dalish elf could make herself seen, then perhaps she would attract a small following among the upper class. 

Through the entire meeting, Anaire kept her stark green eyes plastered to the map on the center of the war table. A frown creased her lips and her eyebrows scrunched together as she focused solely on the pieces and less on the conversation that was happening around her. 

Although Anaire knew that she should be listening, she felt more embarrassed about her fumble at the start of the meeting. Many questions ran through her head that largely went unanswered. 

What was she, a Dalish Elf, trying to do when she involved herself in shem affairs? If after three weeks she still struggled to speak their language, would she ever get better? Would they ever see her as an equal? Should she even be there? 

It was clear that Cassandra was disappointed with the Herald for stumbling over her words. They had spent so much time and energy trying to teach her common tongue and yet the elf still could hardly hold her own in conversation with her three advisors. 

Anaire’s hands gripped the edge of the wooden table, splinters burying themselves into her calloused palms. Her frown creased further. 

Now they wanted to send her to Val Royeaux. 

Lavellan had heard of the shem who lived there from Solas. They were rich, snobbish, and were sure to despise Anaire just for being an elf. Many of the humans were that way, but these Orlesian’s were much worse. 

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she felt a large hand rest itself on her shoulder.   
“Are you alright?” a concerned voice mumbled into her right ear, causing Anaire to turn and face the golden eyes to whom the voice belonged. 

In all of her concerns, the elf had completely failed to notice that the council had been dismissed. Now the room was void of the other women, leaving Anaire and Cullen alone in the chilled stone room. The torch light on the wall reflected off of the human’s pale skin and pronounced the shadows on his face. 

Anaire quickly turned her gaze away from the commander and towards the ground beside him. “Yes, Commander. Do not worry,” she sighed. Curse this man for noticing her grievances so readily. The last thing Anaire needed was to be pitied, much less by the man who lead the Inquisitions forces. He, along with the others, so readily relied on Anaire to be strong that she could not afford to show weakness. 

Much to her dismay, he would not drop the subject. 

“It must be hard,” Cullen sympathized gently, slow enough that she could catch each of his words. Anaire was almost disappointed that she understood him. The hand that continued to rest on her shoulder then slid off as she dipped away from Cullen to head towards the door. 

“Do not worry,” Anaire huffed, gathering her hair to set it on her back, not once looking back at the commander. She knew her face betrayed her true feelings. 

As she reached towards the slightly rusted iron handle of the door, Cullen spoke once again. “I could help you…If you would like,” he offered, voice now a bit louder and slightly less confidant than before. 

Anaire laughed dryly in response. She turned the door handle all the way down before she sighed and released it. With her tail between her legs, the elf turned to face Cullen. 

“You are busy, yes?” She questioned, sharp gaze now directly challenging the warrior. Anaire did not entirely trust his motives. Her clansmen had once shared stories about how the humans loved to take advantage of their people. Growing up hearing only these stories, what else could Anaire think? She struggled to believe that this specific shem wanted to help her out of the kindness of his heart. 

She hardly knew him. Anaire didn’t even know if there was kindness in his heart. He was a commander, after all. 

There was a twinkle in Cullen’s eye when he answered “I will make time.” 

Lavellan kept her hard gaze on him for a long time before her shoulders finally slumped and she softened. She hardly could refuse if someone were offering to help her fit in with the people that she had to live with.

“Please,” Anaire requested quietly, hand once again twirling her left braid, ears drooped against her head. She felt too defeated to reject his offer, ulterior motive or not. 

The commander broke into a toothy grin, his smooth whites flashing in contrast against the rough stubble around his lips. “Then, tonight? I will be finished with the training routine at sundown,” he informed her readily. 

The elf smiled gently. He had spoken too quickly and with words she was unacquainted with. Anaire had not quite understood what Cullen had said to her. 

He quickly realized this as well. 

Cullen’s wide grin was traded for a sheepish one as his hand clenched around his sword, “I am sorry, Herald,” he apologized slower than before, “at dark?” 

Anaire nodded before she finally turned for the last time and exited the war room, face feeling just slightly warmer than it had before. 

Why did this shem want to help her? 

Anaire Lavellan did not want to trust Commander Cullen, but another part of her really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations/Source:   
> https://www.scribd.com/document/61993944/Elvish-Vocabulary
> 
> "Ar tu na'lin emma mi, asha"   
> I will see your blood on my blade, woman 
> 
> "Ma halam"   
> You are finished


	4. Ma Nuvenin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their lessons begin

Cullen paced about his tent on the outskirts of the training grounds. 

After dismissing his soldiers for dinner and bed, the commander himself had returned to his quarters to await the arrival of the Herald of Andraste. As he promised, the sun had set when he released his trainees. The remaining trails of light filtered through the orange tweed door flap, shining on Cullen’s forgotten paperwork. 

He had realized, too late in fact, that he did not know the first thing about teaching a Dalish elf how to speak common. 

Why had he even offered? It wasn’t as though he could do a better job than Solas, who could communicate both in elven and common. No, Cullen had to try to teach Anaire one language without knowing the first thing about the other. 

Time that he should have spent trying to complete the rest of his paperwork was now spent furiously contemplating the best way to refund his offer. 

She could be walking through the tent opening at any moment soon, expecting him to know exactly what he was doing. And he wouldn’t even know where to begin. 

Cullen ran one gloved hand down his face, pulling his skin down in thought. Perhaps he could feign illness and reschedule, giving him enough time to consult Solas on the best course of action. Or maybe he should pretend as though he had too much work to do for tonight and thus could not meet with her. 

He glanced at the papers littering his desk. 

That seemed like a believable excuse. 

With haste, Cullen moved across his tent and took a seat behind his medium sized wooden desk. He skimmed through the reports and organized them according to importance. Then, he piled the least important ones underneath the urgent requests so it would seem as though all of the reports were crucial. Finally, he grabbed the top sheet of parchment and pressed it into the wood in front of him. 

Cullen sighed after dipping his pen into the ink at the edge of the desk. He began to write, in tight fitted script, a response to his troops in the east requesting backup to keep stray rifts contained. He wouldn’t be lying to the Herald. This was, in fact, very important. 

All attempts at escaping the situation failed miserably the moment Anaire stepped into his tent. 

She smiled shyly and greeted him with a gentle, “Commander.” 

Cullen looked into her sparkling, expecting eyes and immediately dropped his pen. No, he promised her that he would make time. He was a man of honor. Cullen could not, in good conscious, go back on a promise that he had made, especially to this woman. 

“Herald,” he cleared his throat nervously, “please, sit,” he requested gently. 

Anaire looked around the crowded tent and yanked on one of her braids again. “Where?” 

The commander jumped out of his seat without warning once he realized that he did not have an extra chair in the room. Damn it, did his recruits never sit? No, of course they didn’t. Cullen let out a nervous laugh before offering his chair to Anaire once he stepped away from it. 

“My apologies, I did not realize…Please, have my seat,” he motioned at the chair. 

Anaire laughed brightly at his fumbling before waving him off. “You sit,” she pointed at the chair he had just leapt from, “I stand.” 

“My lady-“ 

“No, you sit,” Anaire insisted firmly. She already felt embarrassed that the commander had to take time out of his busy schedule to try to teach her common. The last thing she wanted was to take his seat as well. 

Finally, Cullen sighed and sat back down, “Very well. Where shall we begin?” He muttered quietly, more to himself than her. Anaire stared at him expectedly. 

Cullen looked frantically around his desk before he grasped at a blank sheet of paper and lifted it up to the Herald. Her gaze dropped from his eyes down to the parchment. 

“Paper,” he stated strongly. 

“Paper,” she repeated hesitantly, her p’s coming out much softer than his thick ferelden accent made them. The hairs on the back of Cullen’s neck rose at the sound. He enjoyed her sweet accent much more than the Orlesian one, that was for certain. 

The commander realized he was taking too long to respond. “Yes, paper,” he said again. Then he reached out and gathered the report that he had just dropped. Cullen pointed at the neat black script scratched into the surface. “Writing.” 

“Writing,” The herald nodded. She pointed to the parchment he had held up prior and repeated the word “paper”, then pointed at the script and said “writing.” 

Cullen flashed a toothy grin and motioned to the entire piece, paper and writing together. “Report,” he stated, “The writing and paper together is a report.” 

“Report. I write report after Hinterlands,” Anaire said slowly, remembering that she had scrawled a note in elvish to the advisors which was then translated by Solas. It was not terribly long as they relied more heavily on Cassandras report than hers, but it was enough to get used to the process that she would no doubt have to endure after every mission. 

“Yes you certainly did,” The commander gave a hearty laugh, remembering the moment that Josephine received a single page of elvish. She must have fumed for hours until Solas was able to transcribe the message for her. That letter had passed hands multiple times before it finally reached someone who was able to read it. 

Their lesson continued in a similar fashion, with Cullen finding random objects in his sleeping quarters to show the Herald and make her repeat. He would then place it in a sentence and have her repeat the sentence. With each new word that Anaire learned, he saw her confidence slowly building. It definitely would skyrocket whenever she placed it into a perfect statement. This went on until it was time for the next guard rotation. 

The last round of guards had walked into Cullen’s tent with nothing to report on the watch before retiring for the night. Cullen saw the moon high in the sky when the recruit opened the flap in his tent. He stretched out his neck, finally realizing how stiff he was after sitting for hours. 

“It is late, my lady,” he said, rising from his place in the chair. 

Anaire, who had found herself comfortably sitting on his cot, also stood. “Yes,” she agreed, “Thank you for your help, commander.” 

“Cullen,” he stated suddenly. 

“What?” 

“Call me Cullen,” he requested, eyes flittering to the side before locking with hers. 

Anaire was silent for a moment as she processed what he had said. Was it proper to call the commander by his first name? Perhaps. If that was what he wanted. 

“Ma nuvenin, Cullen,” she grinned, “Emma Anaire,” she motioned to herself, “I am Anaire.” 

Before the Herald could leave, Cullen called out to her one last time, “Meet me to train the troops in the morning, Anaire?” he asked her quickly, stumbling through his words. 

The elf cocked her head in his direction. She picked up on the words “meet me,” “troops,” and “morning.” Anaire bowed to the commander, body angled just slightly to the ground but eyes shut in respect. 

“Ma nuvenin, Cullen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> www.memrise.com/course/661546/dragon-age-learn-elven-language-for-beginners/1/ 
> 
> Ma nuvenin:  
> As you wish 
> 
> Emma:   
> I am


End file.
